


Because of that damn Ponytail

by blindedstarlight



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Dante's Bad at Running his Business, F/M, Fluff, Hair Kink, Hair-pulling, Office Sex, Romantic Comedy, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 06:44:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19420594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindedstarlight/pseuds/blindedstarlight
Summary: It's a regular evening at Devil May Cry, with all the regular issues that come with working for Dante-- but he does something unexpected with his hair, and you can't help but stare. He notices, and he acts.





	Because of that damn Ponytail

**Author's Note:**

> MY FIRST DMC FIC AAAAAAAAAAAAH!

You’ve been sitting at your laptop for hours, all the while going through the accounts of Devil May Cry. For what seems like the fiftieth time tonight, you heave yet another exasperated sigh and squint at the figures on the screen. Your thoughts turn to Dante and his stupid do-gooder grin, and his flippant ‘ _oh, not at all— you don’t need to pay now if you can’t, we can arrange a payment plan later when things settle down_ ’ attitude. You sigh again, and copy and paste the sparse figures into a spreadsheet and do a simple sum of the amount that has been invoiced against the amount that the clients still owed to Devil May Cry.

“For fuck’s sake,” you mumble, burying your face into your hands, rubbing your eyes tiredly before pulling them away and blinking incredulously at the small laptop display, “no wonder he can’t afford a bigger screen for admin…” Your eyes briefly cross to the bottom right corner of your display where the time reads _10:28pm_ , and you wonder with some concern whether the source of your exasperation is one his way home.

No sooner than the thought crosses your mind does Dante himself cross the threshold of his office. He’s loud about his entrance as always, making a show of groaning and languidly stretching before throwing his equipment down on the couch opposite the desk where you are seated. You watch him with raised brows, leaning back as you fold your arms, ready to have a _discussion_ with him about the management of his finances. He’s thrown himself down rather heavily on the couch next to his things, and he smiles indulgently at you.

“Hey sweetheart, did you miss me?” He’s sitting opposite you, comfortable in the way he practically drapes himself over the couch. You take in the sight of his spread legs clad in his leather pants, and the way his exposed biceps look like they’ve been carved by the most skilled of sculptors. He notices the way you continue to frown at him, and he has the sense to sit up a little bit straighter. “I wasn’t gone that long, was I?” He raises his arm, bringing his wrist closer to his face to glance at the time. He hums and shoots you a bemused smile. “Three hours for a job’s not so bad—.”

“It’s not about how long you’re out there, _sweetheart_ ,” you try to remain patient as you explain the financial situation in the least amount of words you can muster for the sake of getting the point across quickly, “it’s more about _getting paid_ for the hours you put in that’s the issue here.”

You can see Dante’s throat bob as he swallows, and you can also see how he visibly stiffens at being called out for his not-so-professional conduct. Still, you can’t keep up the stern accounts manager front for too long— not with his usually macho self looking so much like a defenceless deer caught in headlights. Your shoulders loosen and you let your crossed arms fall limp at your sides.

“Ah, so you noticed, huh? Awkward.”

You fight a smile, doing all you can to remain serious. “Of course I noticed. You log all the damage claims fine and dandy on the system, but when it comes to invoicing your clients, you’ve just got a note saying they’ll pay when they’re able. Dante, that’s not how you run a business!” While you’re on a roll, you gesture around the office at the miscellaneous items he’s decked his professional space out with. There’s a pool table, a juke box, and all his collectible signed electrical guitars sitting rather innocently around the office. They are all expensive trinkets— and you are fully aware that Dante’s bought these out of impulse without giving much thought to how he would afford the quarter’s rent for the office space. “What are we going to do to fix this?!”

He’s quiet, and the moments linger on in silence, until you’re about to open your mouth again to rant anew about the responsibilities of running one’s own business. Dante raises his hand, as if he’s a scolded students trying to earn favour with a strict teacher. His gaze is tentative, and he starts with a small shrug.

“Look, I don’t think it’s right for me to demand payment from people who clearly can’t afford it. I know we’ve got bread to make and bills to pay and all that _responsible normal stuff_ , but we’ve got a civil duty to blast the asses of all paranormal vermin back to the pits of Hell, right?” He appeals, tone taking on a slight pleading tone.

You frown. “That’s all well and good, but you’re not gonna have enough money to get your sweet, sweet pizza and ice cream if you keep this up. And then we’re gonna be eating the canned soup that’s on special at the supermarket every week—.”

Dante’s eyes widen. “Strawberry sundaes. And _no_.” He shakes his head. “Not the canned fucking soup…”

You nod, a smug smirk making its way onto your lips. “Exactly. We’ve gotta sort this out— and soon. I’m serious, Dante!” You end up exclaiming with exasperation as Dante grins and shoots a wink your way.

“I know, I know! I’ll be good with the invoices and chasing up payments and all that stuff from now on!” He reveals himself to be more stressed about the topic of discussion that he’s previously let on, his hands moving before you’re sure he even knows it. His fingers hastily card through his hair, gathering his silky, silvered white strands at the back of his head before tying it haphazardly with the black elastic around his wrist. “Ugh, I’m beat. I’m gonna change.” He shoots you a knowing look, and nods your way. “You should finish up soon too. Thanks for your help today, ‘preciate it.”

Most of his words go right over your head as you take in the sight of Dante wearing his hair in a ponytail of all things. You’re fully aware of how _attractive_ Dante is, you’re not _that_ focused on work, but you’re given a glimpse at something rare tonight, and the small change in his appearance is having a very big effect on you and your ability to form coherent thought.

You don’t realise you’re staring until he clears his throat, shooting you a quizzical glance over his shoulder. Your cheeks immediately feel hot, and you tear your eyes from him, though his dark eyes, his tall nose, and his angular jaw are all seared into your mind’s eye. This shouldn’t be such a big deal, but you’re long overdue for the intimate company of a man, and Dante’s single and stupid, and flippant, and handsome and sexy, and fair and so, so dumb and funny—

“— you okay there? Wow, you’re really gone, aren’t you?” He lets out a low chuckle, and you find your cheeks growing so hot they’re about to catch fire. You shake your head and clear your throat as you practically pounce at the mouse and keyboard, shutting all the programs down before putting the laptop to sleep.

“Ah, yeah… long day. Headache, and… yeah.” You finish lamely, your bravado from earlier fading into the abyss. Dante’s grin is annoyingly bright as he makes his way toward you, and you become painfully aware that this night is beginning to play out like the plot of a bad porn video. Your boss is practically stalking his way towards you, looking like a fine piece of ass, and you’re both incredibly annoyed at his dumbassery, and also very impressed with how effortlessly attractive he is.

Unfair isn’t even beginning to cut it.

“Headache, huh?” He’s making his way around the desk, and you’re sure your mind is telling you to get up and move away so that the porn part of your fantasies does not eventuate, but your body is thirsty for a man, and Dante’s all man. So you’re stuck to your seat as Dante stands directly behind you, leaning over until his lips are a breath away from the sensitive shell of your ear. “I could help you fix that, since I’m the reason it’s there.”

You scoff and shake your head stiffly. “You’re so full of yourself. I’m going home.” But you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

His hands are a warm weight on your shoulders, kneading at the tense knots with his deft thumbs. “Can’t let you go home without pay, doll. You’ve worked so hard.” His hands slide down your arms, calloused pads of his fingers brushing gentle friction on your exposed skin. You can’t help but bite your bottom lip between your teeth in attempts to keep yourself from letting out any embarrassing sounds. His touch feels good, intoxicating almost, and you’re loathe to even think of leaving now.

Still, your mouth moves, words full of sass, before you can even process any impending consequence of your actions. “Pay me? That’s rich! We were just talking about how shit your accounts look—.”

He spins you around on your office chair suddenly, and you cut yourself off with a surprised gasp. Dante’s leaning over you, handsome features smouldering at you, his dark eyes pure obsidian as he fails to hide his hunger for you in his expression. He’s close, so close that you can feel his breath puffing over your lips. You can smell him, and he’s drenched in that addictive mix of gun powder, heavy-duty polish, and undertones of sweet berry. His scent is aphrodisiac to your deprived female sensibilities, and you’re well aware that you’ve thrown all professional decorum into the air as your body leans toward him.

“I’ll give you something else worth your while. Don’t deny it; you’ve wanted it for a while, haven’t you?” He smirks, and moves forward to teasingly brush his lips against yours. They’re soft, and when Dante pulls away, you find that the soft pressure isn’t nearly enough to satiate you for more than a few seconds. You’re drawn to him; it’s pure magnetism. He shakes his head and uses his hand to keep you at bay, laying it splayed over your shirt, over your breast. He squeezes gently with a short, amused laugh. “You’re so serious when you’re working— I feel bad distracting you, but you can’t help yourself when I’m around, can you?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes and stomp your foot lightly against his in a show of embarrassed annoyance. He’s enjoying your embarrassment around being caught admiring him too much.

“This.” You deadpan, staring him right in the eyes despite your burning cheeks and increasingly feverish disposition. “This is why you’re single, isn’t it?”

“Hey,” his tone is affronted, “I’m single because I’ve been waiting for you to give me a clear signal for the good loving to happen.”

A laugh bubbles out your lips; it’s hard to resist the admittedly dorky remark. “Good loving, huh?” You chance a challenging smirk his way, tilting your head up to meet his lips once more, hands idly resting on his waist to slowly guide him closer. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.” Your daring words hang between your hovering lips, barely a ghost’s breath away from touching. He shuts his eyes and his nostrils flare slightly, his patience clearly tested by your open invitation.

He opens his eyes, and his dark gaze locks with yours. “We start now, and we’re not going to stop. You ready for the best night of your life, babe?” The pet name almost has you moaning softly, but you hold back with a swift nod offered instead.

“I’m _so_ ready. You said it yourself— I’ve wanted this for a while, Dante.”

His lips are on yours again, firmer and far more present than that first brush. Your lips move languidly with his, teeth awkwardly clashing at one point until you relent and open up to let his tongue in for a taste. You can hear the wet noises as your tongues move against each other, exploring and tasting feverishly as your hands get lost upon each other’s clothed bodies.

It’s getting hot in the office, and you’re feeling light-headed when you pull away panting. Gaze hooded, you bite your lip and let out a shaky breath through your nose. Dante’s no longer smirking, his expression nothing short of intense concentration as he runs his hands down to your waist to grip at the bottom of your t-shirt. You don’t resist when he pulls it up, moving back a moment and raising your arms to be rid of your pesky clothing.

You move to return the favour, and he’s more than enthusiastic to assist you as you belatedly find out you’re not quite tall enough to effectively manoeuvre his simple black henley t-shirt over his head. Breathing becomes difficult as his eyes lock back onto yours, absolutely smouldering. You can feel your cheeks heating up again, so you break away from his stare and busy yourself with taking in the new revelation that was Dante’s bare chest.

He is perfection, all chiseled abs and defined pecs. He is mostly smooth, with the barest hint of fine chest hair speckled over his pectorals. You’re feeling out of your depth for a hot second, and you wonder if he’s having as much fun ogling your softness as you are admiring his incredible physique.

“Wow… I’m gonna apologise in advance for not hitting the gym enough—.” You begin, trying to make light of your rising insecurity. He doesn’t let you continue as he grabs you firmly by the waist and tugs you solidly against him. You feel his chuckle more than you hear it, the vibrations reverberating in his chest against your ear. Your bra’s loose before you can even register his fingers deftly removing the clasp before pulling at it.

“Mmm, sexy and soft. I like it a lot.”

You wrap your arms around him, feeling dumb and stupidly shy. “Shut up and keep going.” An idea forms in your mind, and before you can think anything of it, you pull your arm up and secure your grip on his gathered hair, tugging at it with considerable force.

The groan that rumbles out his throat and through his parted lips is absolute sin. You want more. You tug at his ponytail firmly yet again, revealing the delectable sight of his throat. You pull him down by his hair, and the sounds Dante makes as you man handle him have your arousal pooling in your panties— you’re soaked and more than ready for the sinful proceedings to come.

“Fuck—,” he curses, his voice lower than you are used to hearing, “didn’t know you had it in you.”

“You complaining?” You whisper hotly before pressing your open mouth against his pulse point, gently sucking before scraping your teeth against the sensitive expanse of skin. The choked whine that came from your ministrations was a surprise.

“Hell no, go harder.”

You smile against his skin and press a kiss to the newly established love-bite. Tilting your head up a little more, you strain to reach a little higher, to make it hard for him to hide the evidence of your claim. You’re shocked at your own audacity, but you’re too drunk on his surprisingly submissive sounds to even think to stop this newfound domineering streak from playing out in full.

Dante gasps, his head tilted helpfully to assist you in your mission. You’re so absorbed in your mission to mark him as much as you can that you barely feel his hands sliding down your hips. It’s when he cups your ass and squeezes firmly that you gasp and twitch closer to him, addicted to his touch. He’s making you feel so good; so appreciated and so, so sexy.

His fingers bunch at the stretchy material of your skirt, pulling it up your thighs until the material’s bunched at your waist. It’s his turn to manhandle you as he manoeuvres you onto the edge of your work desk. He leaves you for a brief moment, though his gaze never falters from yours, as he undoes his pants and pulls them down low enough to reveal his—

“— _oh my god_! Really, Dante?!” You’re not sure whether you should have expected him to go commando under those leather pants or not, but the revelation of his stiff cock in its full glory is all too sudden.

He lets out a laugh, and you’re all too aware that he sounds a little more nervous that he lets on. “What? Don’t like it?” He takes his length into his grasp and pumps it almost lovingly, making a cheeky show of biting his bottom lip before shrugging. “I could put it away if you’re not into it anymore—.”

You jerk forward, revealing all too soon just how desperate you are to feel him against you, and especially inside you. “Stop with the damn taunting and just fuck me already!” You explode impatiently, slicking your ruined underwear to the side to reveal just how bad you want— no— _need_ him.

Legs spread for him and stare direct and bold, you challenge him wordlessly. His eyes linger on your glistening sex for a few moments and his nostrils flare with desire as he steps forward. His eyes are back on yours, settling his hips between your legs before teasing your opening with the head of his cock. However, his moan comes before your own, the feeling of your wet nether lips against the sensitive tip of his cock much too intoxicating to resist vocalising praise.

“Damn, look at you, workaholic demanding her boss to fuck her right on the desk she picks up all his fuck ups, huh?” He grins at you, and you’re immediately awash with exasperation and cloying desperation as your sex quakes to feel the stretch his cock promises to deliver. “Be a good girl and ask your boss for your payment _nicely_.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to sit up and jerk a hand out to grab at that sexy ponytail of his that has started this whole sexy predicament in the first place, but your grasp is firm on his gathered hair and you pull him forward defiantly. The sudden movement results in his cock pushing into your entrance with only the slightest of resistance, and you let out a small moan as you begin to fall back against the wooden surface of the desk, saved only by a panting Dante looming over you with his brows drawn tight and his mouth hanging ajar.

You hear him gulp, and you feel him very slightly push his hips forth to delve deeper into your hot, wet velveteen heat. “Wasn’t what I was going for, but I can work with that too.” He grunts out, hands warm and firm on your hips, fingers digging slightly into your soft flesh as he positions himself just right before looking to your face once more to gauge your status.

You’re solely focused on the stretch, and the way every vein and ridge of his cock seems to rub just right against the softness inside, driving you wild with want. You reach out for him, hand releasing his locks in favour of looping your arms under his arms and around his upper back. Hands resting securely on his shoulders, you’re effectively clinging to him as you whine into his ear.

“Come on, you can move now—.”

“Ask nicely.” He insists, jest clear in his tone.

You don’t have the fight in you to continue this game. You give him what he wants.

“ _Please Dante_. Fuck me, please!”

It begins the moment the latter plea leaves your gasping lips, his hips driving down against yours in a dance of raw want, long-awaited and so very deserved. You cling to him as he fucks you against the desk, the furniture racketing against the floor, creaking under the pressure of his thrusts against your pliant body.

You arch your back and dig your nails into his back, a load moan leaving your lips as he’s finally fucking you with long, hard strokes that hits you just right with each and every thrust. His hands never leave your hips, keeping you steady as he dips his head to take one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks and teases until it peaks, and then he bites gently, earning a sharp cry from you.

“Oh, oh shit! Dante—!”

He rumbles as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, lapping at your sensitive skin before biting down and marking you just as you marked him only a few moments ago. You wrap your legs around his waist and drive your hips up in tandem with each of this thrusts, the pressure in your belly between your hips building like white hot fire with the combination of your movements.

You don’t realise when one of his hands come between your bodies, just short of where you’re both joined. His fingers pressed languid circles on and around your clit, and you’re screaming with release before you know— the power of your orgasm so intense that you’re deaf to your own lewd sounds of pleasure. Dante’s holding you close, angling your hips with his own remaining strength to concentrate on achieving his own incredible release.

His hips stutter and he lets out a string of low, groaned curses as he pulls out and releases on your soft, quivering abdomen. Your body’s shaking with the aftershocks of your vigorous fuck, and you let Dante lay you back onto the table as he steps away briefly. Still lost to the world, you feel a wet towel on your abdomen, cleaning away his release. Your eyes flutter open and you can’t help the softness with which you gaze upon Dante as he concentrates solely on cleaning you up.

He’s still got his pants hanging around his knees, cock growing soft after his release. His torso’s shining with perspiration, and your notice that his hair’s loose around his face again.

You can’t help yourself as you let out a short, genuine laugh through your exhaustion. He looks at you, the sound catching his attention immediately.

“Something funny?”

You shake your head. “Nah. Just… I like it when you tie your hair back.”

Dante snorts and shakes his head as he makes his way to you, pulling you up gently before guiding you off the table. He’s careful with you, bending to remove your skirt before covering you with a surprisingly soft blanket. He guides you towards the back of his office, where his private room is located. It’s the first time you’re going in there.

“I think I figured that much out myself, sweetheart.” He sighs, sounding incredibly content, and plants a tender kiss to your temple. You can’t help but feel both precious and confused at the gesture.

“You’re being weird,” you mumble awkwardly, unsure of what is going on; and especially unsure of what your relationship with Dante is after the _complicated_ series of events that have just unfolded. “Are you usually this sappy with your one-night-stands?”

Dante fixes you with a painfully soft stare— too soft to belong to a man who didn’t care— and offers you a reassuring smile. “I don’t do one-night-stands.”

Your heart soars.

And to think… you had the audacity to _pull his hair_.


End file.
